


Inner Monologue

by missfandoms (Mayicka)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Exes, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Songfic, i missed songfics okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-03-09 16:24:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayicka/pseuds/missfandoms
Summary: Love is so short, forgetting is so long.- Pablo NerudaSome people are meant to be, after everything, thought every fight and problem, they stay together.Agron and Nasir thought they were that kinda couple.It turns out, they aren't.





	1. Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, welcome, to this trainwreck of a fic, born out a writer block and a half developed bad idea. Get comfy, it's going to get bumpy. 
> 
> So. I started writing this because I was (still am) completely stuck with my other big fic ideas, and because I couldn't stop listening to Julia Michael's Inner Monologue EP, and because I've been missing songfics for years lbr. 
> 
> Yes my fellas this is a songfic, that relic lost in time because they were (honestly) cringey. Well, this is a modern version of that, the whole story follows Julia Michaels Inner Monologue, all the lyrics written in the beginning of each scene are lyrics from those songs. Each chapter is a song, and they follow the order of the songs in the EP except this first chapter, which should be the song Anxiety, but it isnt because errrr this one fit better to be quite honest with y'all.
> 
> So, yeah. Thanks to Julia michael for writing such great break up songs, this would haven't existed without her. 
> 
> Oh, I almost forgot to add: this is completely un-betaed, because I do not have a beta. If you want to offer your services, then, ma friend, feel free, hmu

**Haven't been to my favorite restaurant in months**

**I can’t drive down Santa Monica without thinkin' 'bout ya**

**And what you’re doing' now**

 

The small red ember of the cigarette lets out a small trail of smoke as it hits the wet pavement, the puddle reflecting the red and pink and green neon lights in waves and smudges.

Patty’s grill is the best burger restaurant this side of Los Angeles, Ca.

Or was. Agron’s not sure. It’s been too long since he’s been inside. No matter how tasty the meat and fries are, they always leave a bitter taste in his mouth now, the taste mixing with the memories of laughter and a pair of inscrutable warm eyes.

A myriad of little bells ring as the door opens, letting the cold in and the faint sound of laughter out. Gannicus’ loud cackle overpowers all the rest of sounds, and in the ephemeral moment between the bell chiming and the door closing again, he gets a glimpse of Saxa’s wild curls, Crixus’ smirk and Mira’s happy flush under her freckles.

The little bells jingle again, and he has to take a deep, smokey breath, to fill his lungs with poison, to hide the tightening of his chest at the sound. He once told Nasir- more than half drunk in tequila shots after dinner, and the sight of Nasir’s smile- that his laugh sounded like those little bells. And after that, any time he heard them, he couldn’t help but smile.

Now he flicks the cigarette off as Spartacus approaches, his calm confidence hiding the concern in his steps. It’s a charade that works on everyone, the tranquility Spartacus exudes always like a warm blanket on a winter day, but Agron’s not everyone, and he knows this man better than most. Better than himself.

Spartacus doesn’t say anything as he watches him grind his shoe against the pavement, his heel dragging through the moist sidewalk.

“You’ve been out here for almost fifteen minutes.” He says, arms crossed but voice level. It’s not the voice of someone who’s walking on eggshells, like Pietros', not the I-take-no-bullshit of Naevia’s tone. It’s the voice that reminds Agron why Spartacus is his best friend, the calm to his storm.

“I wanted to take a smoke.”

Spartacus nods, and then he cocks his head with a brow raised, a faint of a smile on his lips. Agron huffs, and shuffles on his feet.

“He’s not here.” Agron doesn’t look up at Spartacus words. He knows. He hasn’t been fifteen minutes in the moist LA weather for nothing, watching and examining and waiting for him to appear, and wishing so hard he didn’t come by.

He nods and doesn’t say anything. Spartacus walks closer and lays a hand on his shoulder. Words aren’t needed between them. Agron just sighs and walks towards the restaurant, head high and heart rabbiting in his chest.

 _It’s better this way_ , he tells himself.

***

 

_I thought about movin' to a different state_

_A different country, yeah, maybe that'd be better_

_So I'm not around you_

 

He should just go minimalist, he thinks for the thousand time, as he hauls yet another heavy cardboard box up his new and shiny third floor apartment without an elevator.

He clearly doesn’t need that many...he checks the box. Art supplies? Of course.

The box falls to the doorway floor with a loud thump, making Nasir grimace at the rattling sound of the objects inside, too tired to even care if something breaks. He’s exhausted, sweaty, the air is moist and his hair is curling out of the quick bun he put it on. He just wants to shower and eat vegan pizza and sleep for twelve hours straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a step to do that, but he trips over another box, turning it over, the forest worth of papers flying out of the box and covering what seems like the whole damn doorway floor.

He sighs. He should have known better, really.

He sighs again and plops down next to the box, ready to group all the papers together without giving it a second thought, and put a mental note to deal with them later when he sees what’s on them, and freezes.

He doesn’t know how these made the cut into his new apartment, must have been Mira or Spartacus who packed all of this and left him to deal with it, maybe in a strange hope of him actually looking at those again.

He turns the pamphlet around and a bitter smiles curls his lips. _Masters in art at City university of New York_. His fingers grip the pamphlet hard enough to wrinkle the shiny paper. He takes a deep breath and looks up to keep his eyes from burning.

He’s just exhausted, he reasons. There’s no other reason to get overly emotional. He flips through the other pamphlets, looking at all the different programs for different masters all over the country, and smiles with somewhat of triumph. He looks around his dusty and empty apartment.

It looks like a vintage photograph, the light cursing through the colored window over the foyer door, the speckles of green and pink and yellow dancing along the walls, the miniature specks of dust floating around the empty rooms. The white walls looking orange in the dying light, the warm wooden floors that had won him over the first time he saw them.

Nasir smiles, and pushes down the faraway feeling of feeling lost. He’s not running away. Not anymore.

It’s small, it’s old, but it’s his. Only his. And with the sunset light, the tranquil silence of the dying day, it feels exactly like what it is.

A new beginning.

_***_

 

_I wish we didn't have so many friends in common_

_I wish we didn't have to walk around our problems_

_I wish we didn't have to take all these precautions_

_So many birthdays that I missed, that I missed, that I missed_

_So I don’t run right into you_

_Even though that's what I wanna do (What I wanna do)_

 

“So, you’re coming on Friday, right?” Mira’s voice sounds shrill and tiny through the speakers on Nasir’s phone, half drowned by the sound of cardboard moving across the apartment floor, the last of the goddamn boxes.

“Aha.” He answers, half of his mind focused on if he should just flat out throw his old sketchbooks away, or if he should keep them, at least for memories sake.

“Yeah?” Mira sounds surprised.

“Yeah.” He ends up putting his sketchbooks on the living room shelf. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?"

“Well, you know. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, that’s all.”

A curl of guilt twists Nasir’s stomach. He bites his lip, and goes to grab his phone without saying a word.

He knows, that’s the thing. He can say he’s been busy with the move, with applying for his masters, can make all the excuses in the universe. But. That’s not the real reason he hasn’t seen his friends, he knows. And they know too, that’s why they have been so patient, have given him this time to sort himself out.

it’s been a month since Nasir moved into his new apartment.

A month since the new beginning.

Four months since the breakup.

Too much time.

Not nearly enough time for this.

“I know, Mira. But it’s Spartacus birthday, I can’t just miss that, right?” He tries smiling, tries saying all the things he’s not saying through the phone.

“Right. Like Saxa’s last month?” She bites, in the harsh tone she uses when she’s frustrated and has to lash out. And he knows, because he knows his friend, but doesn't stop the surge of frustration and guilt that floods him. Before he can get a word in, another apology, another excuse, Mira sighs and continues, voice softer, more resigned. “Just- just promise you’re going to be there this time. We miss you, Nas.”

Nasir presses the phone closer to him, slouching against the sofa armrest. “I know; I miss you all too.”

And it’s true. He’s never been so distant this long, and it hurts, almost more than the breakup did. They are the best friends in the world, the closest knit group he’s ever been part of, his family.

 _And isn’t that the problem_ , he thinks, absemintedly scratching at the tattoo on his arm, a red snake curled around his forearm. “It’s just- you know.”

“He’s going to be there.” she cuts, voice steely again.

Nasir closes his eyes and bites his lip, slouching against the sofa more. “I know.” He hates how nervous he feels with so little. Of course he’s going to be there, he's Spartacus’ best friend, if someone’s got the right, it’s him. “Maybe I shouldn’t-”

“Don’t bullshit me. Spartacus loves you, and he wants you there. I want you there. Agron can fuck right off if he doesn’t like it.” Nasir opens his mouth to say something, but Mira doesn’t give him time. “And don’t start with the He-was-here-before shit. We are your friends too.” He closes his mouth, face burning at how well his friend knows him. “Just come.”

Nasir sighs. He really doesn’t have another option, does he?

“I will, I will.”

“I promise you he’s going to be in his best behavior.”

Nasir huffs “He doesn’t know what that is.” He wishes his voice didn’t sound that bitter. He wishes he didn’t care that much.

“I promise. I’ll keep tabs on him. If he even looks funny at you, I’ll kick his ass.”

Nasir just closes his eyes and swallows the ball of distress and weariness down.This is not going to end up well.

***

 

**And every time that a friend gets a text**

**Sayin' you're gonna be there, I just don't go**

**Yeah, every time that a friend gets a text**

**Sayin' you're gonna be there, I just don't go, oh**

 

The 8 ball hits the wall and flies into the hole with a loud thud, Gannicus’ laugh following, drowning in Crixus’ loud cursing and Naevia’s mumbling.

“Hell yea, that’s another win for Alpha Cue/Smashing balls, champions of pool!” Gannicus exclaims, throwing his arms up, golden hair shining in the mild darkness of the corner of Ludus, worst bar of this side of Los Angeles.

Agron winces at the name, but Mira’s laugh beats him to a mean comment “That’s the worst name in the world”

“Worst name for the best team.” Gannicus winks at her.

He fist bumps Agron, who shoots a cocky smirk at a snarling Crixus. “You know how it goes, losers pay next round.”

“Fuck you too.” He turns around towards the bar, where Barca is drying some glasses, shaking his head, an amused expression on his serious face.

There’s sweat dripping down Agron’s back, the heat from the low lights and the smoke and all the people gathered in Ludus for a lazy Saturday night, the kind of night to get drunk slowly and surely, hours getting lost in a haze of second hand smoke and the heat of a cramped bad bar.

He plops down on the couch between Naevia and Mira, his arms over their shoulders, wincing at the little comfort the dirty old cushions offer, thinned out by the time and the pressure under so many people’s bodies. He starts playing with a piece of Mira’s hair, more than half tipsy and tired from the day, not really listening to the chatter around him, more lost in his own head.

“...and Nasir said he’d meet us later at the club.”

The mention of him snaps Agron back into reality, and it’s as pleasant as being woken by a bucket of ice. Mira notices his sudden stiffness and looks at him, her huge brown eyes all-knowing and full of worry.

“You’re coming, right?”

Agron’s throat closes up, all the excuses drowning in his throat.

“Of course he’s not.” Crixus’ snort, his deep voice cutting through the fog in Agron’s mind. It’s like a switch has been flipped, the cold from the mention of Nasir replaced by the burning anger he’s so familiar with.

He raises up in a moment, and the rage of it feels familiar, almost comfortable. He’s almost glad to be fighting with Crixus, instead of the fucking mess of feelings that has been nesting on Agron’s chest for the past four months.

“What the fuck did you say?” He snarls

Crixus leans back against the pool table, looking at the cue as he answers. “I’m just saying, you’re fucking transparent, man.”

He takes Crixus’ shirt in his fist, because he’s not sure of what to say, but he’s always been better at talking with his fists anyway, but before it can escalate,, there’s a pair of hands separating him from Crixus’ puffing chest, Naevia’s small but firm hands doing the same on her fiancé.

“Hey, break it up.” Spartacus says, and he doesn’t need to raise his voice to be listened, but still Agron curses at Crixus as Gannicus and Spartacus lead him out of Ludus.

The cold sobers him up the moment it hits his reddened cheeks. He takes a few calming breaths, clearing up the charged, warm air from inside the bar.

“What the fuck was that?” Gannicus exclaims. Agron doesn’t answer, he just takes a cig and lights it up,staring at the semi deserted street. He doesn’t want to see Gannicus baffled expression, the worry in Spartacus’ crossed arm stance. “Jesus, Ags, get it together.”

“Crixus was being a dick.” He mumbles around the smoke, just now aware that he's shivering in the night.

“What-?”

“Gannicus.” Spartacus interrupts “Go inside.”

Gannicus curses but follows orders, the way everybody can’t help but doing when Spartacus talks in that tone. After his departure, silence stretches like an uncomfortable blanket over them, just the sound of cars over the puddles, the faint pounding music from the bar.

“Crixus was being a dick.” Agron repeats, not sure why he feels the need to explain himself. He has never needed many reasons to punch someone in the face, especially Crixus.

“Crixus is always a dick.” Spartacus takes the cig from his lips and takes a drag. “You are also always a dick. That’s nothing new.”

Agron can’t help the smirk that comes to his face. “What does it say about you? That your best friends are a bunch of assholes?”

Spartacus shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I guess it means I’m no better.”

“Fuck, no, you aren’t.” Agron laughs, even if it’s a lie. Spartacus is the best person he’s ever met, only seconded by-

His face falls again, teeth grinding. Just thinking about him brings a gigantic black cloud over Agron’s head. Spartacus notices, because of course he does, and claps him in the shoulder.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” Agron says, and it sounds shallow even to his own ears. Spartacus only looks at him and passes the cig back.

“You’ll be fine, brother.”

Spartacus sounds so very sure, but Agron has never felt less sure about something.

***

 

_I don't wanna give you all this power_

_I'm so defenseless when it comes to you_

_And everybody knows when we’re in the same vicinity, I dodge you_

 

Nasir takes a shaky breath, hands sweaty as they hold Spartacus present between his hands. He stares at the wooden door of his apartment like it’s got monstrous teeth and shadows, like it’s the Cerberus before hell’s gates.

Well, an artist's got to have an imagination, right?

There’s sounds coming through the door, laughter and happy voices, a couple of yells and a crash. Someone’s already breaking something, but that’s nothing new. Every time they are all reunited, they either get arrested or break some kind of public property, it’s tradition by now. There’s another crash, and Nasir mentally bets on Gannicus or Saxa.

The familiar sounds of his family leave a bittersweet taste in his mouth,Half of his brain is focusing on the laughs, the familiar voices, anticipation bubbling up in him, but the other half of his brain can’t help but imagine the worse.

He takes a last fortifying breath and goes to knock on the door, but before he can touch the wood, the door opens with enough force to almost hit him, Saxa’s messy hair haloing her scowling face. She stills, looking up and down at Nasir. He freezes, hand still up in the air and breath refusing to go back into his lungs.

“Er. Hi, Saxa.”

His croaky voice snaps stops her calculating gaze and she looks at him straight in the eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

Nasir freezes again, her words ice sharp and straight into his gut.

“I- Mira said Spartacus would-”

Saxa’s cruel laugh interrupts him. “Those two are too fucking nice.”

Nasir hangs his head for a moment, but the frustration becomes anger and he looks back at her.

“Look, Saxa, I’m sorry that I’ve been absent, and if this is about your birthday-

“I don’t care about that.” She snorts.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway, but I’m back, and- I want to do things better.”

She’s going to answer, lip curl and voice poisonous, but a firm hand grips her arm. Mira’s usually sunny face is pulled tight.

“Saxa, stop it.”

Saxa’s eyes widen and she gestures to the door, like Nasir is not even there. “How can you just-”

“I said stop it, Sax. Spartacus wants him here, so he’s going to stay.”

Saxa just yanks her arm free and shoulders Nasir on her way out of the apartment, pack of cigarettes clutch in her hand.

There’s a heavy silence, the clicking of Saxa’s doc martens echoing across the stairs.

“I’m sorry, I-” he starts.

She shushes him with a finger on his lips. “Don’t listen to her, you are here, that’s what matters. Spartacus will be thrilled. You should come in now, before Gannicus can manage to shove more shots down his throat, he’s already half drunk.” She says, voice filled with laughter. She must see the distress back on Nasir’s face, because she takes his hand in hers. “Agron’s not here yet. He had a late shift.”

Nasir nods, relief and reluctance tensing up his throat, but he nods and takes her hand more in a firmer grasp, letting himself get dragged into the apartment.

If the noise seemed loud from the hallways, it’s nearly deafening once inside. It would be overwhelming if Nasir wasn’t so used to it, but he can’t help but smile, the voices and loud trashy music feel like coming home. He hasn't even stepped into the apartment when he feels Naevia’s arms enclose him, then Gannicus’ and Pietros’, and many other people who seem so happy to see him that it almost makes Nasir cry, not sure if of relief, or just frustration. Saxa’s right. He shouldn't have stayed away for that long.

After long minutes of enthusiastic hellos, his ears are ringing and someone has plopped him down on the couch beside the birthday boy himself, who’s smiling at him, grey eyes warm, still focused even with all the alcohol Gannicus and Donar have surely been feeding him.

“I’m happy you’re here, Nasir.”

When Mira said that, she sounded frustrated, when Naevia said it, it felt like a scolding, but the way Spartacus says it, it only makes Nasir feel like he’s made the right choice.

“I’m happy that I’m here, too.”

The party continues, time stretching and shrinking like rubber, like it always seems to do when you’re surrounded by family. Spartacus and Mira’s apartment becomes a bubble against the cold of the outside, warmed by company and the never ending alcohol. Someone has dimmed down the lamps, and put up some colorful string lights, the place glowing in colors and shapes, the people dancing in the living room casting playful shadows in the walls.

From the open window comes a chill that rises goosebumps on Nasir’s arms, but he barely feels it, comfortable under the weight of Naevia’s arms. The noise of the city, the honks of passing cars, the shrill voices of the crowds filter through, getting lot in their cacophony.

Nasir talks to almost everybody, relieved to see that there’s no new faces, no semi strangers, they seem to have gathered only the closest friends.

It’s two hours into the party, and he’s already halfway to drunk, on alcohol and laughter, when it happens.

The door to the apartment has opened and closed a couple of times during the evening, some late friends coming, one time for the pizza man to come, and Nasir has barely registered it those times, but this time, it’s like his senses have sharpened, he can hear the wood creaking as it opens, so clearly he must be imagining, and he freezes in the spot, even though it feels like the whole apartment’s temperature has gone up some grades.

Agron is talking with Duro, boyish smile on his face, and Nasir has to swallow down the ball of feelings that invades him, the resentment and tension and residual want. Agron looks good, as he always does, broad and tall, charming smile always so close to turning into a snarl, the green of his eyes as electric as ever.

Nasir hasn’t seen him in four months, and he looks amazing, he looks bigger, like he’s been working out, but he also looks tired, dimples looking a little bit more strained, like he does when he has a particularly hard day at work. Nasir catalogues every piece of information, reads this man because it’s easier for him than breathing.

A part of him, the part that it’s so used to that, longs to reach out and smooth the lingering tiredness from Agron’s eyes, rake his fingers through his spiky hair as he listens to Agron bitch about his work. A bigger part of him, the bitter, angry part, the most logical part of him, stills and bristles at the sight of Agron, rage and sadness mixing up and threatening to either spill out or drown Nasir in them.

It’s not fair, how unsure, how ungrounded Agron makes Nasir feel.

Naevia notices his sudden stiffness, the way he’s clenching his jaw. She eyes him, questioning, but her furrow softens in understanding when she looks up at the door. She squeezes his arm and smiles at him reassuringly, and he tries smiling back, breathing deep to dissipate the hurt under his ribs, reassure her that he’s okay, that he’s not going to freak out in Spartacus’ birthday.

People around him whoop and get up to greet Agron and Duro, clap them on their backs and push glasses of alcohol into their hands. A couple of people look back at Nasir with doubt in their eyes, and Duro, with his head over Saxa’s shoulder, shoots him a dark look, which hurts almost more than his brother’s entrance did.

Duro and Nasir used to be very good friends, the team up with the mission to bother Agron and take care of him when he refused to take care of himself.

First Saxa, then Agron, then Duro. It seems tonight’s the night to face everything he’s lost, too.

But Agron still hasn’t looked at him, hasn’t spared him even a small glance or a polite nod towards him, he’s just drinking from his red cup and talking to Mira, ruffling her hair and overall annoying her.

Nasir stands abruptly, clumsier from the alcohol and the awkwardness as he imagined. Pietros looks at him with worry in his big eyes, and he waves him off with a hand he hopes it’s not shaking as he imagines it is.

He heads off the bathroom, needs to go, can’t stand another moment of Agron’s proximity, his dismissive attitude, his own anger at it. How dare he ignore Nasir like that, how dare he look so unfazed, so unshaken, when Nasir feels like the floor is swallowing him down with every step he takes.

Once in the bathroom he closes the door behind him and leans against it, thankful for the ringing silence, the cooler air not contaminated with Agron’s overwhelming presence. He imagined it would hurt, he imagined the anger, but he didn’t imagine the grief, the want, the regret and longing.

He closes his eyes at the tears he feels there, grinding his teeth and absolutely refusing to cry because of Agron. He promised himself he wouldn't’ cry again for him, and Nasir has always kept his promises.

***

 

**I wish we didn't have so many friends in common**

**I wish we didn't have to walk around our problems**

**I wish we didn't have to take all these precautions**

**So many birthdays that I missed, that I missed, that I missed**

**So I don't run right into you**

**So I don't run right into you**

**So I don't run right into you**

**Even though that's what I wanna do (What I wanna do)**

**Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh**

**Even though that's what I wanna do (What I wanna do)**

**Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh**

 

Nasir leaves the room and Agron feels all eyes focus on him at once. He would laugh, at the predictability or the absurdity of it all, but he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath since he got into Spartacus and Mira’s apartment.

Mira’s nails dig into his bicep where she’s holding onto him, as a warning or as a punishment.

“I told you to behave.” She hisses.

“I literally did nothing.” he answers between grinding teeth. “it’s not my fault he’s a coward”

She digs her nails in deeper until he hisses, then she releases him with a small slap to his arm and a “Just. Be nice.”

Agron bites back a biting remark and sighs, rolling his neck to relieve it from the tension and tiredness of the long shift.

“Fine.”

He strides through the apartment, feeling all eyes on him, their worry and anger almost clogging up the air in the atmosphere, the smoke and dim lights making him suffocate under the attention. He holds his breath until he reaches the bathroom door, just as it clicks open.

The sight of Nasir’s sad face loosens up the anger in his chest, only to tighten it with worry and frustration. He knows Nasir hasn’t cried, because he looks normal and his face always gets super puffy the moments after crying, but his eyes still look red and tender, and his lips pull downward.

He takes a deep breath, closing his fists to keep them from reaching out, raking his fingers through Nasir’s ponytail and relieve the tension in him.

Nasir doesn’t want that. He made that way too clear four months ago.

The silence stretches between them like the most dangerous rubber band, like a storm about to break. Nasir doesn’t look particularly surprised to find him in front of the bathroom in Spartacus and Mira’s hallway, waiting for him. But he’s not looking at Agron, instead fiddling with his hair and visibly grinding his teeth.

“I’m sorry.” Agron’s words sound hollow and clipped even to his own ears, and he rolls his eyes at himself in his gruffness. It’s not that he doesn’t feel a little bad, even if he doesn’t know why he should, but Nasir always makes him feel like this, so lost and inadequate.

Nasir snorts, and it’s a cruel sound, so uncharacteristic of him that Agron can’t help raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t want to think about how similar it sounds to what Agron sounds like when he’s annoyed.

“Mira set you up for this?”

“The fuck does that mean?” Anger bubbles up inside Agron, threatening to spill over his lips and clenched fists, always there, always to the brink of coming out in waves.

Nasir just stares at him dead on, never one to back away from a confrontation. It wasn’t always like that, he learnt it from Agron.

“It means; you are not one for apologies. I should know.” The last words are mumbled, like he doesn’t want to really say them.

Agron lets out a breathless, humorless laugh. “Stop that victimistic shit.” He shakes his head in incredulity.

It makes Nasir look at him again, all fury and heat, not a drop of the softness and eternal kindness that usually defines him, the qualities that Agron fell for. Maybe that’s why it’s easier to look and argue with this Nasir, this bitter, angry copy of the boy once was Agron’s.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, I can’t stand you.” Nasir spits, and turns around to go back to the party, back to the music, loud and pulsing, not doing favors for Agron’s starting headache.

“Likewise, Schatz ”

Nasir stops dead in his tracks, the neon lights casting colorful tracks over his shiny ponytail, making him look ethereal, unreal. Agron’s chest hurts. Then he turns around and the stubborn, mean mask is back on his face, the mask that makes him look so unlike Agron’s Nasir that he feels like he can breathe again.

Nasir walks until he’s inches away from Agron’s face, defiant even as he looks up to Agron.

“Don’t fucking call me that, you can’t do that anymore.” Nasir bites out, then deflates with a sigh, still looking frustrated, almost a little bit lost. “Why are you- Why do you have to-” He exhales, hard enough that his breath hits Agron’s chest. “I just can’t get you, Agron.”

“I don’t get you either.” He spits back, and it’s the most real and painful thing he’s said in a long time. They used to understand each other better than anyone else in the world.

The sadness and longing he’s suddenly feeling is mirrored for a moment in Nasir’s boundless eyes, but it’s only a flash, so quick he must have imagined it. Nasir closes his eyes to ground himself, then opens them and it’s only the most inscrutable calm that looks back at Agron.

“Look. I know we are not on friendly terms anymore.” He states, making Agron snort. “But we still share most of our friends, and family and- and everything. And it sucks, but we’ve gotta deal with it, okay?” He looks at Agron in earnest until he nods. “Right, so. Let’s be adults, right?”

“Yeah, we might hate each other, that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil.” He says between grinding teeth, and almost snarls at the way Nasir’s lip curls when he says _hate_.

But what does Nasir think was going to happen, they were going to break up and everything was going to be okay? They were still going to be friends? He wants to laugh. They could never be just friends; it was always all or nothing between them.

“Right.” Nasir says, “I’m gonna go back to the party.”

Agron shrugs, and Nasir still doubts for a moment, raises his hand as he’s going to- to what? But it’s only a moment, and he turns around and Agron is left in the hallway of his best friends’ house, feeling almost desperately like he wants to grab Nasir by the arm and press all against him and kiss him and kiss him until they both forget what the distance between their bodies feel like, until he can feel Nasir’s lips quirk up in that smile he loves- loved so much, until he can make this past months disappear.

But mostly, feeling lost and angry at Nasir, for leaving, at their friends, for caring, and at himself, for still loving this magnificent man that is not his anymore.

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end! of chapter/song one. Next up: Anxiety feat Selena Gomez. 
> 
> I wish I could tell you when I'm gonna update but. That's. Asking too much of me, tbh.  
> Basically i'll update when I write the thing. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading, leave a kudos, leave a comment, see ya soon.  
> (I hope.)


	2. Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo, guess who's here, after a ridiculously long time? 
> 
> This chapter was a bitch to edit let me tell ya, writer's block hit me like a train like three months ago and welp. Anyway, good news it's that it's here! finally! Yeaah! 
> 
> Oh, reminder that bolded lyrics is Agron's scenes, italics are Nasir's scenes, and underlined are both of them's. If that makes sense to anyone but me.
> 
> Hope you like it
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> gossip girl

**My friends, they wanna take me to the movies**

**I tell 'em to fuck off, I'm holding hands with my depression**

**And right when I think I've overcome it**

**Anxiety starts kicking in to teach that shit a lesson**

 

Agron had never noticed that crack in the ceiling of his living room. 

“We are going to the movies this Thursday.” 

It’s a pretty large crack, spanning through Agron’s whole living room and disappearing into the hallway. 

“Crixus has not stopped complaining about the last marvel movie, so we are going to watch it.”

He wonders if the crack reaches his bedroom, and if he should care enough to get it fixed. 

“Saxa says it’s bullshit, so she’s not coming, and Pietros is working, but everyone else is going to be there.”

He could do it himself, actually. Maybe this weekend, just go to the store to get filler and the ladder from his parent’s house and-

“Agron, are you listening?” Naevia’s harsh voice interrupts his trail of thought, and he begrudgingly sits up on the couch. 

“Yeah. Movies. This Thursday. Do I really have to go?” He sighs, scratching at his stubble. It’s getting long, he probably should shave. A pang of guilt and frustration hits him between the ribs. 

He knows it’s the wrong question before he can even finish asking it. Naevia sighs and her voice turns all worried. “C’mon Ags, it's been ages since we’ve been all together.”

“What about Spartacus’ birthday?”

“That was almost two months ago.”

“It hasn’t been that long.” He grumbles. 

Naevia sighs again. “Is this because of Nasir?” 

Just hearing his name makes Agron grind his teeth. 

“No.” He lies. 

As if something ever is not about him, as if he’s has been able to think about anything else since Spartacus’ birthday. Nasir’s teary eyes, the resentful turn of his mouth, all the heartache in his posture, how distant they felt and, even then, how the air cackled around them. 

“He’s going to be there.”

“I know.”

“Is that the problem?”

“I said no, Naevia.” 

“Then you have no excuse not to come.” 

Agron sighs this time, using all of his remaining strength not to snap at one of his longest lasting friends. 

Because how can he tell Naevia about the sleepless nights, the doubt that clings to every decision he makes now, that he feels small and lost and doesn’t have anyone to blame but the shadow of the memory he has of Nasir, and mostly himself. 

“Fine, I’ll go.” 

***

 

_ Oh, I try my best just to be social _

_ I make all these plans with friends and hope they call and cancel _

_ Then I overthink about the things I’m missing _

_ Now I'm wishing I was with 'em _

 

The metro entrance spits out a mass of bodies into the faint light of the dying day, the smell of warmed up asphalt invading Nasir’s nose as he joins the cascade of people walking in the LA streets. 

He wants to get lost in the crowd, wants something- anything- to happen, so he doesn’t have to keep walking and reach his destination. 

The thought has barely crossed his mind when he feels guilty for thinking that, remembering the lonely four months in which he refused to see anybody, all the moments and memories he missed in his haste to cocoon himself from Agron’s presence. 

The realization is not enough to quench the anxiety in his chest, but it’s enough for him to adjust his sunglasses over his nose and walk more briskly to the cool cinema reception. 

Mira is the first to spot him, waving at him sunnily, and as the moment he joins them, everyone says their hellos, and Gannicus messes his hair until Nasir threatens to do the same to him. He ignores Duro’s cold shoulder, trying to suppress the pang of hurt, and he can’t help but sigh in relief as he looks around and sees that Agron is not here. 

The relief is short-lived, as him and Spartacus step out of the candy store, muscled arms filled popcorn and drinks for everyone. Spartacus goes around the group distributing the goods, and Nasir follow him with his eyes until he feels a nudge. He looks up to an awkward looking Agron, who’s offering him a pack of popcorn and a lemon sorbet.

“They’re vegan. Spartacus almost forgot, so I- never mind.” At Nasir’s wide-eyed look, he doubts. “Unless you are not-”

“Yes.” Nasir coughs to diffuse the awkwardness, and takes the bag and drink from Agron’s hands. “I’m still vegan. I haven’t changed that much.” He can’t help the resentful aftertaste of his own words. 

Agron scoffs, but just shakes his head and walks away, leaving Nasir to look at his vegan popcorn and his favorite drink, a surge of irrational anger invading him.

Of course Agron remembers, the same way Nasir remembers that Agron doesn’t drink sugary drinks, and what burger he’ll order when they go have dinner after the movie, like he knows his favorite movie is Indiana Jones, even if he tells everybody it’s Inglorious Basterds, and like he knows all of his scars and the stories behind them, and that his mother calls him Mausebär. 

It doesn’t keep the anxiety from invading Nasir’s chest, like a swarm of ants crawling in his chest, like every other time something like this has happened in the past two months. 

It’s small moments, almost unnoticeable, little things that mean nothing, but piled all together show a picture of how messed up this in between is, this uncomfortable cliff between the knowing everything about the other, and trying to forget.

And like all the other times, Nasir just hangs his head, swallows his anger, and moves forward, staring ahead, talking to Nae or Barca or anyone who isn’t Agron. 

He’s about to follow everyone into the dark cinema when Mira grabs him by the arm. 

“Oh, I need to go to the bathroom, please come with me?” 

Before he can say anything, she grabs him harder and starts dragging him through the hallway. She shrugs when he points out that he can’t go to the women's bathroom, so she makes him wait outside, in the silent hallway, entertaining himself by tracing the patterns of the plush, stained carpet with his eyes, following the shapes and swirls and years old stains that adorn them.

He’s trying to discern whether a brownish yellowish blob is part of the original design or if it was a spill stain when Mira comes back out.

“That was fast” He raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon let’s go, or we will be late.” 

He shakes his head but follows her, a nagging suspicion creeping in his brain. His suspicion is confirmed when they manage to climb the stairs to their seats, barely avoiding tripping up them.

There’s two free seats on the aisle. One of them is between Naevia and Spartacus, who has his arms crossed and shakes his head disapproving at Mira when she sits down beside him. 

The other one, predictably, is right by Agron. 

He shoots Mira a dark look, but she only winks at him and stares to the ads playing across the screen. Nasir bristles but plops down, nearly dislodging his popcorn from his lap. 

Beside him, Agron scoffs. “No need to seem so happy.” He says, without taking his eyes from the screen.

Nasir slumps down further in his seat. “No, it’s not about you.” 

“Must be a first.” 

Nasir lets out an involuntary laugh, which makes Agron look at him, one side of his mouth quirked up. It’s not a full smile, just a hint of dimples, but it still makes Nasir’s stomach swoop, so he avoids his gaze. 

The lights dim further, and Nasir takes some popcorn into his mouth. There’s some hushed voices down the seats, some people taking selfies before the movie starts, and Nasir feels too warm at once, the fluttery feeling in his chest getting more restless the longer he sits by Agron. 

The movie is entertaining, and Nasir has been anticipating it for a while now, at least to scoff at all the inaccuracies and casual misogyny and racism of the franchise, but he finds himself almost unable to focus, constantly being pulled away from the story whenever him and Agron laugh at the same joke.

He can feel every little nudge and movement Agron makes, feels tenfold every time his arm accidentally brushes Nasir’s. Even he must be imagining it, he feels Agron’s heat like an actual presence, like electricity cackling between them. 

At one point Agron makes an aborted move, like he is going to lean into Nasir to tell him something, eyes cackling with laughter, but like he remembered at the last moment that they aren’t dating anymore, aren’t even friends anymore.

The aborted move makes Nasir’s throat tighten more than it should, and for the rest of the movie, he makes an effort not to focus on Agron, fearful that touching him, hearing his breath and his laugh, is going to provoke something he’s not sure what he could do with anymore. 

The movie ends, the screen dims, and in the second before the light go on, Nasir realizes he was so busy not focusing on Agron, had lost himself so much in the movie that he had ended up leaning so far into Agron’s side that he’s almost leaning on him, because it’s so familiar to him doing that he’s done it mindlessly, and in that second before the lights go on, he leans in a bit further, because he forgets the last four months, crosses the line into disaster zone, and then the lights go on, and he sees Agron’s face, and they seem to remember at the same time, Nasir almost jumps, heart beating fast. 

He hears, more than sees, Agron rubbing his hand on his face as he does when he’s feeling overwhelmed, and Nasir’s nervousness sharpens. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen, this can’t keep happening. This is what he had avoiding in his voluntary solitary. He damns Mira’s snooping for a moment, but then he directs that anger at himself. He’s the one who broke it off, he’s the one who should be keeping distance, instead of falling into Agron’s charms like the first times they met. 

As they exit the room, he sneaks a look at Agron, sees him with his arm over Duro, and he sees the hurt he’s trying to hide behind his casual posture. Duro catches his eye and frowns at him, and Nasir looks away quickly. 

***

**And my exes'll say that I'm hard to deal with**

**And I admit it, yeah**

 

“C’mon, Kiara, you know you can hit it harder.” He yells, Kiara shoots him a look before kicking the punching bag so hard it swings a little. Agron snorts at her defiance and stubbornness, a small smile quirking up his lips. 

He loves that girl, she came into Oenomaus’ gym as a little bird boned, delicate flower, and a year later, even some of the burliest of the gym would cower before her.

This is the last of his classes for today, and he feels sore and tired, but calm. The gym is quiet this late in the evening, there’s barely a couple of people in the treadmills, a yoga class taking place in the other room. The music is quieter than it is when the gym is bustling with people, and it feels almost cozy. 

The sound of leather against leather, the heat of the box and the burning in his muscles are as familiar to Agron as his own face in the mirror. But the satisfaction of that girl’s progress, knowing that he helped in that development and so many others’, the pride in his trainees and the small space of growth he’s created this past years, that’s not something he ever thought would be his. 

He used to scoff at the idea of him training anyone, thought he ever was going to do was compete in MMA fights until brain injury or some other lesion forced him to retire. And probably not even then he would stop fighting, no matter the danger. 

After the class he wanders off to the weights section of the gym, where Donar is busy working out. Agron looms over him until he finishes his reps and sits up, then kicks him in the shin.

“You lazy fuck, why did you sign up for my classes if you’re not going to attend them.”

“Yeah, you know. I have a problem with those classes.” Donar drawls as he swipes a towel over his sweaty brow.

“What problem.”

Donar looks straight into Agron’s eyes as he answers “The teacher.” 

Agron cuffs him in the head and sits down.

“Right, because you know I’d go too hard on you.”

“Or because you are a dick.” Donar murmurs as he grabs the smaller weights. “Are you actually going to do something, or you just came to bother me?”

“Mostly to annoy you.”

Donar shoots him a look “Don’t you have a boyfriend for that? Where’s that little bugger anyway? It’s been a while since I’ve seen him kick some ass around here.” He looks around the gym as Nasir is going to appear out of thin air  

Agron picks up one of the weights and passes it from hand-to-hand. “We aren’t together anymore.” 

That stops Donar’s series of reps. “Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry, man.” 

Agron shrugs, still not looking up. “It’s fine.” 

Donar claps him in the shoulder and goes back to his weights, a smirk adorning his lips.

“It really is, welcome back to the winning team, brother. Being single is always best.” He shakes his head “I really don’t know why anyone bothers with a partner. Too much work for something I can get any Saturday night.” Donar’s smirk turns dirtier. “It’s a shame, though. That was a hot piece of ass.”

Agron shoots him a look, swallowing down the irrational surge of possessive jealousy. He’s got no right anymore. 

“You’re straight.” 

“So?” He shrugs. “I can appreciate a nice ass when I see it.” 

Agron rolls his eyes “Why do I even bother with you?”

Donar sets down his weights and gets up, offering a hand to Agron to follow him.

“Because I’m the best friend you have and I’m about to invite you to a drink?” Agron reluctantly takes his hand and Donar uses the leverage to put Agron under his arm, even with the height difference. “Believe me, some good drinks and another twink to have your way with is exactly what you need.”

***

Donar salutes Agron from the bar door, cheeks red from the alcohol and a busty blonde under his arm, and he answers by raising his beer at him. 

The bar is not Ludus, but another, more modern bar uptown, the kind of bars Donar likes to come because it’s full of girls in skimpy, tight clothing, easy to convince going home with him. The purple and blue lights, the smoke machine, and the pounding music make everything feel hazier, make Agron feel like he’s drunker than he is.

The moment they entered the bar he knew the night was going to end up like this, but he’s taken aback by the lingering sadness and inadequacy he feels.

Donar’s right. After every other break up he’s had, he never took much to get over his partners, and hooking up with other people always helped in the past, but. This is different, of course. 

He’s had many other boyfriends, some more serious than others, all very different from one another, but in the end, they all agreed on something: Agron is not an easy person to date. He either falls too fast too hard, goes overbearing and possessive, or either he doesn’t give enough of a shit and ruins his relationship by being too distant. 

Too much and too little, too hot or too cold, never enough of something. 

For a while, he considered maybe this relationship wasn’t for him, he, as Donar, just wasn’t fit for the ups and downs of caring for someone like that. The realization didn’t hurt too much, just made him shrug and focus more on his family, his work. He didn’t need anything else. 

But then of course, Nasir is not like everybody else. And Agron has never loved any of his partners like he loved Nasir. And it’s not even a thing of quantity, of how much he loves Nasir, because that’s a given, but also the way he loved him, how easy their relationship was, how the fit together in ways that Agron didn’t think were possible outside chick films and other sappy shit. 

He never considered how much a person could change your view of life. Not just about relationships, how he made Agron believe that he could be part of one again, but everything else too. Nasir helped him relax after a hellish day at work, taught him that taking care of himself wasn’t a travesty, even the work he now has and loves so much, is thanks to him. It was Nasir who finally convinced him to listen to what Oenomaus had been telling him for years, to give a try to training other people. 

Agron swirls the remains of his warmed up beer in his glass and drinks it in a gulp, drowning his bitter thoughts in the familiar sourness of the drink. He scans the dark lit bar, and sees a boy who has been eyeing him all night. The man is handsome, with dark hair and nice shoulders, and as he smiles leisurely at Agron, he can also guess he’s got nice lips. He considers it for a moment, thinks what it’d be like, to kiss this strange, bite his full lips, take him to bed and make him moan. It’d be good, Agron guesses, some meaningless fun.

Agron locks eyes with him across the bar, but in the end he just grabs his jacket, pays for his drink and leaves the bar. 

Whatever Donar thinks, he doesn’t think that is going to be enough this time. He worries nothing is ever going to be enough this time. 

***

 

_ Always wanted to be one of those people in the room _

_ That says something and everyone puts their hand up _

 

Nasir balances on the edge of his chair to place the frame just right, and smiles triumphant when he manages. 

“You sure you don’t want help?” Pietros looks worried from the floor, surrounded by shiny photographs. 

“Are you calling me short?” Nasir answers with a mocking dark look. 

“Not only that, but you are completely fearless.”

Nasir hops off the rackety chair and joins Pietros on the floor. 

“Shorties have our ways.”

“If you say so. But if you bash your head in the floor, I’m not taking you to the hospital.” Pietros snorts and grabs another photo. “Aw, look how cute.”

The photo is from the most memorable road trip that they made down into New Mexico, all of them crammed into three cars, two motorbikes and a camper van, the wildest and most fun three weeks of Nasir’s life. The photo is somewhere in the middle of the desert, they are all splayed around the vehicles, in different states of sleep. Nasir is using Duro as a pillow and Spartacus as a footrest, Mira’s bandana covering his eyes. 

He smiles at the memory, can almost feel the California desert heat on his back after a whole day of riding in the back of Agron’s or Saxa’s bike. 

“You should put that one up.” Pietros says, and Nasir nods. 

It’s a rare summer day in the middle of October, warm enough to only be wearing a tank top, the pop indie music and Pietros’ soft voice carrying over the living room like a calming spell. They are sorting through the mountain of photos Nasir and Naevia love taking, the sea of memories accumulated all over the years, and putting them up the walls, because a house without photos is not really a home. 

He has already framed the desert photo and is in the middle of hanging it when Pietros laughs as he picks up the next photo. It’s Gannicus and Crixus, dressed in cowboy outfits, riding the same mechanical bull. Nasir laughs with him, and they pass photo through photo, retelling the stories behind them, laughing to tears. 

Nasir loves his friends, loves them more than anything. 

He had quite a lonely childhood, always going from foster home to foster home, never putting down real roots, he almost thought he was doomed into a solitary life. He always looked at friend groups, always saw those relationships in movies and TV, and felt such a jealousy, such a longing for something like that, but he never got the chance to build something of the sort for himself. 

Until he moved to LA, met Spartacus and then Naevia in two different occasions, completely by chance, and slowly and then suddenly he was surrounded by the most lively, hyper active group of people he had ever met. And he fit right in, like the puzzle piece they lost a while ago, almost like they were crafted for each other. And he’s never been happier. 

Pietros takes another photo from the stack, and his smile turns bittersweet, when he looks at Nasir, his eyes look impossibly soft.

“This is a beautiful photo, but- I don’t know if you want it.” 

The million stars and the blurred fairy lights frame Nasir and Agron as they kiss on New year's eve two years ago, the both look tipsy and giggly, Agron is dimpling so hard they are not really kissing, just smiling into each other’s lips. It’s a beautiful photo of a beautiful memory, and it has always been one of Nasir’s favorites. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He takes the photo from Pietro’s hand softly. 

“Well. You know.” Pietros bites his lip.

“It’s a good memory.” Nasir smiles, suppressing the small moment of doubt and sadness, and he frames it among the others. 

“It is.” Pietros agrees, bittersweet. 

Nasir stares at the photo for another moment, resisting the urge to brush his fingers over it. He remembers that night vividly, the bad club music, how they escaped to the roof of the club, someone had put up a seating area, and they put better music from Pietros’ speakers. He doesn’t remember the photo being taken, but he remembers Agron’s embrace, and his kiss, and how green his eyes looked under the sparkling lights. 

Everything he has now, all his friends, his art, nothing would be if Agron hadn’t been there. Even if he didn’t meet the group through him, Nasir almost has the impression that he did get to know them trough Agron. They didn’t get off to a great start, as Agron doesn’t like strangers, but once they got over that, it was Agron who guided Nasir in their group, the person he related to the others through.

This group taught him to make friends, taught him to stand up for himself, brought up to the surface the fire that Nasir had always been trying to put out. And it all wouldn’t have happened without Agron’s presence all the way, without his scathing humor, his protectiveness and his warmth. 

“You and Agron used to be such good friends.” Pietros interrupts his line of thought.

“What?”

“I mean, apart from being your boyfriends, you guys were…” Pietros shrugs. “You know, Agron-and-Nasir. We’d had grown so used to see you together, It’s weird seeing you apart.” 

“I know.” Nasir looks back at the photo, and puts it back down. “That’s part of the problem.” He murmurs.

He wouldn’t have anything he had now if it wasn’t for Agron. And Nasir values everything he has, everything he’s built around himself, but he has always valued his freedom more. And That freedom clashed horribly with Agron’s natural protectiveness and issues with possessiveness, Agron can’t just be with another person, he has to stake his claim. It’s not that Nasir always hated it, and that Agron did it with bad intentions, but he was overbearing and jealous, and Nasir just often needed to breath.

He doesn’t want to become someone’s shadow, just wants to be himself. Just Nasir, not part of a duo, part of a whole. 

He wants to be whole on his own.

“What do you mean?” Pietros asks, making Nasir sigh. “I mean, if you want to tell me- It’s just.” He holds Nasir’s gaze “You just broke it off with Agron, and still hasn’t said anything about...why. We are a little bit worried.

Nasir smiles, even if it feels a little bit forced, and covers Pietros’ hand with his own. “You have nothing to worry about. This is good.” He smiles harder, willing it reaches his eyes. “I just. Didn’t want to lose myself in someone else, you know?

Pietros nods. “That doesn’t mean you stopped loving him, though.” 

Nasir gets up and takes another photo, afraid of what the answer to that would be.

***

But all my friends, they don't know what it's like, what it's like

They don't understand why I can't sleep through the night

I've been told that I could take something to fix it

Damn, I wish it, I wish it was that simple, ah

All my friends they don't know what it's like, what it's like

 

“A lemon vodka, please.” 

Barca raises an eyebrow as he finishes drying up the glass. He poses an imposing figure, back lit against the red neon signs. 

“Rough day or rough night?”

“Yes and potentially, yes.” Agron answers, taking his jacket off at the oppressing heat of Ludus. The bar is lit up in reds and oranges tonight, making it appear both homey and even more like the shitty bar it is.

Barca huffs a laugh and hands Agron his drink. 

“What’s wrong?” Duro’s voice sounds over Agron’s shoulder. “Four beers, on my tab, please Barca.” 

Agron looks over at his brother with a smirk “Did you lose at pool again?” He looks over Duro and raises his glass to Crixus, Mira and Spartacus, who are lying around the pool tables. The lightning is even worse in that corner, the neon lights keep flickering in and out of life, but he still manages to see Crixus’ sour face and wink at him. “I told you never to side with Crixus, you guys are terrible together.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Duro hops on the stool beside Agron’s. “But you haven’t answered me.” Agron rolls his eyes, but before he can answer- long day at work, a dumb argument with Gannicus, any other excuse- his brother interrupts “Is it because Nasir is coming tonight?”

Agron dunks his glass against the bar, spilling some of the liquor “Why does everybody always ask that? Not everything’s about him.” 

Duro raises an eyebrow at him “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.” No, I’m not. “Everything’s fine, breakups are part of life, okay? We are just moving on and it’s weird, sometimes, but things have been better lately, so no, I don’t have any problem with Nasir.” 

And it’s true, things have been better, even it they are still incredibly awkward and stiff, and Agron has a constant fight with himself so he’s not constantly staring at Nasir, and it still hurts to see him, and he has been having trouble sleeping.

But. Things are fine between Nasir and him, they can even have casual conversations now. Last week they talked about each other’s works, Nasir told him about that gallery showing he has in a couple of weeks, and there wasn’t even one scathing comment between them. 

“Maybe you don’t.” Duro scoffs, and Agron takes a deep breath before facing his brother. “What? I don’t like his attitude.” He gesticulates with his hands, like he does when he starts getting heated. “He just comes around, like nothing’s happened, like he has the right to be here.” 

“Don’t start.” Agron rubs at his temples.

“It’s true! He can’t just come here after what he’s done to you, not even apologize and just be with your friends like- like he’s all innocent and shit.”

“They are his friends, too.” 

“They were yours first.”

“That’s bullshit. They are not mine. I can’t ban him from being with each them.” Duro takes a deep breath, to start arguing again, but Agron raises his finger to stop him. “Stop it. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t care what Nasir does or does not do, I don’t care about him.”

“Hey Pietros.” Barca’s deep voice seems to resonate through the bar. Agron turns slowly, cursing on the inside, to face Pietros, and yes, of course. Nasir is there too, staring down at the floor, looking hurt and uncomfortable, and Agron can’t help the little tug in his chest at seeing him. Pietros leans over the bar to kiss Barca, when they separate, a soft smile adorns his lips. “Here, your beers.”

Before Duro can intervene, Nasir jumps ahead and takes the glasses “Don't worry, I’ll get them.” And he leaves, as fast and silently as he’d appeared. Pietros shoots a worried look at Agron but follows Nasir to the dark pool corner. 

Agron shoots Duro a dark look, because he can’t shoot one at himself. 

“What?” Duro answers, a look of complete bafflement on his face.

“You’re both idiots.” Barca says, and Agron can’t help but agree.

***

“...don’t care what Nasir does or does not do, I don’t care about him.

The scathing remark sits on Nasir’s stomach like a stone, especially the dismissive, resentful tone that Agron is using, like he means those words.

I don’t care about him. 

He takes the glasses and walks quickly to the pool tables as fast as he can make it being casual, Agron’s words reverberating in his head, swallowing against the lump that they have caused in his throat.

He thought things were better between them, that the anger and bitterness were slowly muting, that yeah, things were a little bit awkward right now, but in a couple of months, maybe they could call each other friends again. After his conversation with Pietros he had hopes that Agron didn’t hate him, that there was a brief chance that they could build something, even if it wasn’t romantic.

But he was wrong. 

It seems like all he does to Agron now is hurt him, and Nasir just wanted to be free, he never intended for things to get so messed up. Maybe he just needs to give Agron some space, even if they have to hang out together, their group is pretty big, it won’t be as noticeable if they give each other a wide berth. He bets that’s what Agron has been going for and Nasir, foolish and hopeful as always, had just thought that his laissez faire attitude would fix everything, and messed everything up more. 

He sets the beers precariously over the edge of the pool table, and plops down on the sofa beside Naevia. 

“Hello, you.” She puts an arm around his shoulders, and the warmth of her voice bring some comfort to Nasir. “You look tired, everything okay?”

He leans on her shoulder, managing to shoot her a small smile. “I am tired, but everything’s fine, don’t worry.” 

She frowns a little, but at that moment Agron and Duro come back with more drinks, and the low lights only seem to highlight Agron’s height and the way his shirt clings to his chest and arms. Nasir forces himself to look at Naevia instead, because he’s got no right to look anymore, he gave that up himself.

“It’s just the new showing, you know, I have to get everything before the deadline.” 

She smiles sympathetically and runs her fingers through his hair. “Poor thing, they are running you dry.”

The low voices of the patrons and the hazy smoke make Nasir feel like he’s in a puddle of jello, makes his body slump against the seat, like he had smoked a joint. It’s the exhaustion of this week, this month, this whole phase of his life. 

“Kind of.” He sets the glass on the table, and as he leans forward, he sneaks another look at Agron. He’s just started playing a new game, and is leaning over the table with the cue stick in his hand, the way he’s stretched highlights his arms, and a small strip of his waist is showing. He makes his play and sets upright, his smug smirk twisting things in Nasir’s stomach. 

He always found Agron’s competitiveness and smugness overly attractive. The arousal mixes in his gut with the guilt and the sadness, an explosive cocktail ready to overflow. He tears his eyes off and focuses back on Naevia. “It’s in three weeks, and they want me to have everything ready for next Friday.” He grimaces “But I’ll make it. Even I don’t sleep the whole week. This is too big a chance to screw it up over deadlines.” 

“Damn right it is.” She smiles, proud. “Our baby Nasir is going into the big fishes’ pockets.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He rolls his eyes, even if a smile is playing on his lips “Anyway, how’s it going with you? Patients still being difficult?”

“Patients? I wish they were my biggest problem, but no. There’s this doctor-” 

Nasir listens to his friend complain, mostly even managing to focus on her words and annoyance, only sometimes sneaking looks to the pool table, the way the red lights make Agron’s eyes look so much greener in the dark. 

He can’t help it, it’s like Agron’s body is a magnet for his gaze, desire simmering low on his belly. He doesn’t think Agron notices, he never seemed to do so when they were still together, never realizes that he turns heads wherever he goes, not only because his size, or just his looks, but there’s a certain intensity, a lurking danger just behind his eyes, that makes him magnetic. 

It’s always been hard for Nasir to tear his eyes off Agron, but before at least he had the gloating certainty that, no matter how any eyes focused on Agron, no matter how many friends they were with, by the end of the night was always going to have all of Agron’s heat on him, his mouth and hands pressed to his skin. 

Now, he didn’t have that, only the warm longing and bitterness of the knowledge of his cold bed waiting for him when he got home. 

On one of his offhand once-overs, his eyes lock with Mira’s. She smirks up at him, knowing, aware of Nasir’s mislead looks. After that, Nasir makes a more conscious effort to not look at Agron, annoyed at Mira’s prying stare.

“— and he’s the most inappropriate towards nurses, but he’s good, like he doesn’t ever do anything that crosses the line, but when you add all of the things up-” 

“Hey, Nae!” Mira’s exclamation cuts off Naevia’s groan. “Want you to be my next partner, c’mon, let’s show these boys how’s it done.” 

Naevia answers with her own smirk and the lust for competition shining in her eyes. “Oh, you’re on.” She gets up after placing a kiss on Nasir’s cheek “I’ll finish later, babe, but I have to kick some ass now”

Nasir laughs and salutes her with his beer.

“Oh, so you are just going to abandon me like that, partner?” Agron pouts at Mira, and it does nothing to affect Mira, but it makes Nasir’s insides soften.

“Sure am. Tough luck.” She shrugs and wiggles her hand at him for him to give up his cue. “You can keep Nasir company, now that I’ve stolen Naevia for myself.” 

Nasir sees Agron’s face tighten just as his throat clenches with annoyance and frustration. Damn Mira, damn her meddling, and damn his own hurt at Agron’s reaction. 

By the way he’s barely hiding the glare he’s giving Mira, and how he hesitates on his feet, it’s clear that keeping Nasir company is the last thing Agron wants to do right now. Nasir feels a surge of embarrassment coming up, and before he realizes, he’s up and muttering an excuse, and heading off to the bathroom, far away from Mira and Agron.

He walks almost blindly to the bathroom, hands shaking on his sides. He might have slammed the door on his path, but he’s too hyped up to really register it. The dark purple lights of the small bathroom don’t do much to clear out Nasir’s head, but they help hide the angry tint of his cheeks. He washes his hands and splashes some water in his face, unsuccessfully trying to subdue the redness. 

He’s so angry at Mira for getting in something that’s none of his business, and he’s so angry at himself for being enough of an idiot that Agron and him could ever be friends. Like they ever were. No, it was always all or nothing between them. 

He leans up just as the bathroom door opens and closes behind Mira’s slight frame. She stops just inside, and the silence stretches between them like a presence, like a weight in the room. Mira looks fiery and washed out under the fluorescent purple lights, and he hopes the lightning is shitty enough to hide his flushed face. 

“I don’t get you.” Mira crosses her arms. “I thought you’d be happy”

“ _ Happy _ ?” He tries not to raise his voice. “Happy that- what? You’re prying into my life?”

She scoffs and looks away “Please, I’m doing you a favor.” 

“How?” He faces her completely. He can’t believe he’s really having this conversation, that she doesn’t get what she’s actually doing. 

“Everybody knows you and Agron are eventually going to go back together, we don’t even know why you broke up with him.” The meanness of her tone carries like an echo over the empty bathroom.

Nasir lets her words get lost in the fading music from the bar, lets them fall on their own weight. Nasir takes a deep breath, because he knows Mira snaps when she gets frustrated, and if he can see that she regrets saying the words, even if she’s too stubborn to say yet. “I have my reasons. And still, it’s none of your business.” His anger still bubbles up in his tense tone, in the clenching of his jaw.

“None of my business? You are my friends, I’m just trying to keep the group together.” she exclaims, signaling with her hands to the bathroom door, to their friends on the other side. Her eyes look wide with surprise, and she exhales a sarcastic laugh. 

Nasir stares at her, dumbfounded for a moment, when he speaks, his voice is sharp with incredible. “You are saying Agron and I should go back together...for the group?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” She crosses her arms again, but her words falter, and she looks away.

An incredulous laugh escapes Nasir, even if he just feels like yelling. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” She looks shocked, and Nasir doesn’t know if he should laugh or yell at her or cry. “Like you and Spartacus haven’t caused any headaches to all of your friends.” 

“And you were there for us, I’m just trying to do the same. You are great 

Together, you belong together.” she looks exasperated. Mira and her lost causes, she’ll always defend them, if they have no hope whatsoever. 

“That’s not your call to make, Mira.” Nasir has thought the words, but they haven’t come out of his mouth. It’s Spartacus who’s said them, who’s standing in the doorway with a serious expression.

“But-”

“You should go outside.” 

Nasir can make the gears moving inside Mira’s brain, sees the decisions she makes and the way she decides to postpone this argument.

She doesn’t bang the door on her way out, but the heavy silence that follows her departure is as thick as if she’d been. Nasir deflates, and rakes a hand through his hair, the prior exhaustion and the stress from the argument are giving him a headache.

He doesn’t notice Spartacus has come closer until he feels his hand on his shoulder, comforting and familiar. Nasir turns to him and presses his forehead on his shoulder, smelling in the warm scent of Spartacus. 

“I’m sorry, Nasir.” Spartacus says softly.

“Not everything is your fault, boss.” He smiles ruefully. 

“I don’t want to explain for her, but-” He sighs ” We are just worried about you two, you know we’d never do anything to hurt any of you.”

Nasir sighs, letting the comfort of Spartacus’ presence calm him down. With the sounds of laughter and music muffled by the door, and the cool lighting, the dingy bathroom feels like a bubble to protect him from his life at the moment. 

“I know, but. This is my choice, and we just need- space. We need space to figure ourselves out. We- I need to have this.” 

Spartacus looks at him for a long minute, then he nods. “I understand.” 

He’ll just give himself a moment in the bubble, before going into the balled up mess that is his life. 

***

 

**I got all these thoughts, running through my mind**

**All the damn time and I can't seem to shut it off**

**I think I'm doing fine most of the time**

**I think that I'm alright, but I can't seem to shut it off**

 

He kicks Crixus on the side as hard as he can without balance, managing to wobble him a little, but Crixus is fast, faster than one might imagine for his bulk, and uses the small moment of stillness after the hit to grab his leg and throw him onto the ground.

Agron hits the mat with enough force to steal his breath, but he recovers quickly, not quickly enough that he stops Crixus from getting on top of him, but enough that he gets his hands between them.

Agron’s muscles are burning, he’s sweating all over, his back is going to bruise badly, and he already can feel the burn of the mat against the skin of his back. 

He smiles, feral. He loves this. 

He loves being a trainer, loves seeing the progress of his proteges and the more paced rhythm of his life now that he doesn’t compete professionally, but nothing will ever beat the thrill of and actual fight, of unleashing the beast. 

He pushes against Crixus’s arms pinning him down, and he manages to move him some inches before Crixus lets out a grunt and pulls him down to the floor again. After that, it’s almost impossible, Agron’s arms burning from the exertion. 

Oenomaus calls Crixus’ victory, and he gets his fat ass from on top of him and Agron finally feels as he can breathe. He begrudgingly takes Crixus’ outstretched hand, and his pat to the back. 

“You know, Agron, sometimes I think you lose so much because you secretly like being under me.”

Agron gives Crixus the finger as he drinks water and then throws it over his head, relishing at the feel of the cool liquid washing off the sweat and grime of his naked chest. 

“Please,” He smirks “You wouldn’t know what to do with all of this.” He gestures to himself, very aware of how he looks just out of a fight, the water drops traveling down his torso.

The image doesn’t faze straight-as-a-board Crixus, who just rolls his eyes and punches him in the arm, over a bruise he had put there just minutes ago. 

Agron is vaguely aware of another pair of eyes wandering over him, a dark eyed, dark haired man doing bench presses just over there. Agron nods at him as he sits down beside Crixus. 

“You should go for it” Crixus says, surprising Agron.

“Go for what.” 

Spartacus and Gannicus are sparring now, bodies moving fluidly on the mat, Oenomaus’ hawk eyes analyzing every expert move. 

“The boy who’s looking at you like he wants to rip your clothes off.” 

That makes Agron tear his eyes off his friends’ fight. He faces Crixus with his mouth parted in shock and his eyebrows raised.

“What the fuck are you talking about”

Crixus grimaces, like he 100% regrets starting this conversation, but then he sighs. “You need to move on from Nasir.” 

Agron laughs. What has his life turned into? It’s like the break up has turned it completely around. He’s no longer with Nasir, he’s constantly fighting with Mira, his best friend, over her fucking meddling, and now he’s talking boys with Crixus.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you sound like Donar.” he shakes his head. 

Crixus winces. “Well. I still think you need to do something. Your pining is honestly getting tiring, and you’re hurting Nasir.” 

Welp, there it is. He thinks, feeling both bitter and more at ease. Crixus cares for Nasir a lot, because Nasir is Naevia’s best friend and Crixus is just looking out for Nasir, he’d never care for Agron like that. 

Still. Donar and Crixus hate each other even more than Agron and Crixus do, they differ so much from each other, especially when it comes to love and commitment and relationships. So, if they agree with each other, hell must be freezing over somewhere. Or. They are actually right.

He shakes his head and takes another big gulp of his water. Maybe Spartacus is rubbing off on him too much, or maybe he’s actually growing up, but he doesn’t feel like fighting them, feels like listening to advice for once. And, as much as he hates it, they do have a point. 

He thinks more about Nasir now that they’ve broken up than before, he’s constantly in his mind, his first thought when he wakes up to the bed’s cold sheets, his last thought when he can’t sleep at night. 

It’s like every little detail of his life reminds him of Nasir, like a stranger with funky clothing Agron would sneak a picture of and text Nair about it, or like he still knows Nasir’s order from every restaurant they hit, it seems before he had Nasir to tell these little things to, but now the thoughts bounce along in his head incessantly, with no one to pick them up.

He gets up, startling Crixus, and looks over to the dark haired boy, who is still sneaking looks at their direction. 

He doesn’t think it’s going to work, but. Maybe.

Agron is about to walk away from Crixus when his voice stops him.

“Hey.” Crixus looks painfully uncomfortable, and is looking straight at Spartacus and Gannicus, instead of at Agron. “Nasir is not the only one that I wish gets better.” 

Agron takes a deep breath, letting the words sink in, and then he gives a small grin and a nod of gratitude towards Crixus. He walks towards the anonymous boy with a sly grin and trying to remember everything he’s forgotten about flirting in the past five years.

***

 

_ I got all these thoughts, running through my mind _

_ All the damn time and I can't seem to shut it off _

_ I think I'm doing fine most of the time _

_ I say that I'm alright, but I can't seem to shut it off _

 

It’s not that Nasir’s nervous, exactly, but It’s that this is a huge opportunity for his career, and he’s been working his ass off for the last month for it, and if he makes a mistake it might be the downfall of his whole livelihood.

Or something a little bit less dramatic. 

He takes a deep breath and looks around the gallery. Objectively, everything looks as perfect as it could look, his paintings look good under this lightning, and they are displayed in the perfect way to showcase his talents and leave the viewer wondering. 

He, too, looks good, his grey suit sharp and his hair tied up tight. He could have gone with the artsy hipster look, but the people he’s trying to impress are business people, not artists, and he doesn’t want something as inconsequential as his looks ruining it for him. 

In reality, he’s bricking it. He can’t help but look around and find small imperfections, things he could improve, minuscules changes in the possible buyers’ faces that make him cringe. 

Maybe having one of his friends, Naevia, Pietros or even Spartacus could have helped calm him down in this situation, and they insisted on coming, but he knows only Agron could bring Nasir down when he gets like this.

But Agron is not here, and Nasir doesn’t want him here. 

This is exactly what he meant when he broke it up with Agron. He can’t keep depending on someone else for this. He needs to learn how to face these situations alone, needs to learn to be independent. This is the right choice, he tells himself for the millionth time, and for once, he kind of believes it. 

“Excuse me,” A smooth voice interrupts his train of thought. “Are you the artist?” 

Nasir turns around and has to fight his face muscles not to gape. With a big, charming smile and impenetrable dark eyes, the guy he’s talking to is gorgeous.

“Yes, I am. Nasir Almasi, nice to meet you.” He hopes he sounds calm and professional as he stretches out his hand. He hasn't’ had a pull towards another person since the early stages of his relationship with Agron.

The stranger’s eyes flick down for a moment before he shakes Nasir’s hand. The man’s overconfident grin is doing things in Nasir’s stomach he doesn't want to name. “Nice to meet, you, Mr. Almasi, I’m Mr Miller, I scout new art for Mr Banks.” 

“Oh,” Nasir’s eyes widen, and his heart rate picks up, it beats faster than when he saw Mr Miller. Geoff Banks is one of the biggest art dealers in the state, exactly the opportunity he’d been hoping for “There’s no need for the Mr anything, you can just call me Nasir.” 

The guy’s smile gets even bigger, and Nasir can’t help but answer with his own.

“Then you can call me Castus.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof.  
> Alright.  
> It's not perfect, but it's done.  
> And tbh if I had to read it over once more I'd eat my fucking computer, I swear. It's just going to be what it is.  
> Anywaws, onto the next chapter, aka: Shit his the fan. yo ho ho
> 
> see ya


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